


Left Behind

by Melodious329



Series: Rentboy [7]
Category: Kane (Band), Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries to get some work done and Chris reveals some of his past</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters are created

Eventually, Steve makes them get up and go into the house, Chris adorably sleep-rumpled and clinging to Steve’s side, depending on Steve to lead him up the stairs. They sleep piled together, Chris on Steve’s chest, barely awake enough to pull the covers up over themselves.

And Sunday morning Steve doesn’t protest when he wakes to Chris nipping a line down his chest, he simply grabs the lube and a condom. Chris’s hands knead the bunching muscles of Steve’s chest as the kid rides out Steve’s thrusts, Steve’s hands fitting around Chris’s slim hips. It’s slow and hot, the strain as Steve drives upwards, Chris’s muscular body rippling with every thrust.

Afterwards, he simply draws the kid back down to lie on his chest again as their breaths calm and the sweat cools. They look like they haven’t moved an inch, like they could spend the whole day sleeping and having sex barely moving from this spot.

It’s a nice image until Chris’s stomach growls, loudly.

“Can’t get up,” the kid’s voice rumbles against Steve’s chest.

“Oh, poor baby,” Steve teases, his voice soft, his hands running up and down the kid’s back.

Chris bites his pec in retaliation.

“Ow, you little vampire,” Steve says through his laughter before he rolls the kid over onto his back. “How ‘bout,” Steve has to stop to nuzzle Chris’s sleep warm skin. “How ‘bout I start some breakfast? We can eat it on the couch and watch tv?”

Chris simply grumbles in response, but Steve takes that as a yes. Maybe not since Chris grumbles louder when Steve actually gets off of Chris and the bed, but Steve knows he has to be the responsible one occasionally. Chris needs to eat, even his friends can see that.

The kid does actually stumble down the stairs after a while. After Steve has taken a shower and made them sandwiches instead since it’s closer to lunch. They do eat on the couch, watching a marathon of “Scrubs”. They move from Chris sitting with his back to Steve’s side, Steve’s arm over his shoulder to Steve leaning against the couch’s arm with his feet in Chris’s lap to practically lying down side by side on the large plush couch.

Chris is starting to get a little frisky again, lifting the edge of Steve’s tshirt with that wicked grin on his lips and wiggling down the couch. Chris’s lips are playing over Steve’s lower belly, the patch of skin between his low slung pajama pants and his tshirt pushed up just above his ribs, licking and nipping the soft skin there.

Of course the phone rings. Chris doesn’t even stop, just trails open mouthed kisses to the other side of Steve’s belly button. But as Steve reaches for the phone on the side table, he sees that it’s someone actually important. Well, he does have to work sometime.

Slowly he sits up, dislodging Chris who whines a little before moving off him. “Sorry, babe,” Steve says getting up to take the call in his so-called home office.

And when he comes back out, it’s to apologize again. “Chris, I’ve got to go to this meeting. I’m so sorry. I won’t even be here for dinner, can you…?”

Steve trails off as he goes into the kitchen. “Are sandwiches ok again?” he yells out, only to look up and see that Chris has gotten off the couch and followed him.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Chris says watching him as Steve gets the bread out and looks into the fridge.

“Or there are…vegetables and chicken. You can cook something if you want…Oh,” Steve stands up suddenly and goes to get his wallet from its place by the door with his keys. “Here,” he says taking money out. “You can order out. The security will call you and then come bring you the food and get the money. Here are my favorite places,” Steve reaches around into a kitchen drawer, pulling out some take-out menus.

He puts the money and the menus on the counter before looking at Chris again. “Are you sure you’ll be ok by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Chris says with a shrug and a smile that’s all false bravado. “It’s just dinner. Even I can make a sandwich.”

“Ok,” Steve says because he really does have to go. “Well, I’ll just, uh, go get dressed then.”

Coming back downstairs a few minutes later, he gives the kid a kiss and leaves Chris sitting on the couch still flipping through channels.

The meeting is at a restaurant and the meal seems to last forever. Steve looks at his phone a few times, contemplating excusing himself to call Chris but that would probably be too much. Eventually he puts the phone in his pocket and gets into the discussion.

He’s late getting back and the house is dark. The money is still on the counter and there’s only a plate and a knife in the sink. He guesses Chris was ok with sandwiches again after all.

Steve tries to be quiet as he makes his way upstairs. Chris is asleep on the side of the bed near the wall, lying on his front with his arms and legs tucked in tight like he’s trying to take up as little room as possible. Changing into his sleep pants, Steve climbs into bed and throws an arm over the kid’s waist, Chris not stirring at all. He almost wonders if Chris is trying not to move, but it’s a passing thought as Steve falls asleep.

In the morning, Steve is woken by an obnoxious sound that doesn’t stop when he tries swatting at the clock. It’s his phone. Dammit. He hates these mornings.

Barely registering the kid stirring beside him, Steve takes the call, already climbing out of bed. One of the artists signed to his company is having a meltdown or something and he has to go do something about it.

He’s practically dressed by the time he ends the call and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Chris is sitting up against the headboard when he comes out, looking small and unhappy at being woken in the large bed, sheets pulled up still.

“Chris,” Steve starts. “I’ve got to go to another meeting so we won’t be going to the studio today. You’ll be ok here again, right? The money’s still on the counter. I don’t know how long this is going to take.” Steve sighs because he can only imagine how long this is going to take.

Chris has barely had time to nod before Steve is kissing him quickly and heading downstairs. Just another day in Steve’s crazy life. He has to call the guys and cancel their studio time today.

He manages to get home around dinner time, but another crisis has come up with his own tour schedule and he has to make some calls to get it figured out. He rushes inside the house to see Chris on the couch again and another plate in the sink again. The money’s still on the counter.

“Hey, babe,” Steve yells out to Chris. “Ah, listen, is Chinese ok for dinner? I’ve got to make some calls.”

Steve grabs the menu and heads over the couch, giving Chris a kiss and handing the pamphlet over. “Just pick out whatever you wanna get. I’m gonna get changed real quick and then call it in.”

He’s already dialing the takeout place as he comes back down the stairs. It’s a sad state that he loves to cook and yet has to order out this much. “So?” he questions Chris as he comes up on the couch again.

“Uhhh, just fried rice, I guess,” Chris says handing the menu back.

“Ok,” Steve says easily. “I’ll get some extra and you can have some of mine too.”

He’s making another call as soon as he hangs up with the Chinese place. And when the landline rings, presumably the security guard, he gestures for Chris to pick it up and gives Chris the money. He sets out plates on the table, but as soon as Chris is setting down the bag, Steve is making a plate he can take into his office.

“You should definitely eat some of this one,” he tells Chris before he leaves. “It’s got a little more protein and vegetables than just rice.”

He’s up late again. Rubbing his face as he walks upstairs and thinks of how he has to get up early tomorrow anyway. He’s got to actually get the tracks laid with the band already. Chris is already in bed again, his hair wet and spiky against the pillow he’s clutching. Steve curls around Chris’s back and sleeps.

It’s the alarm that wakes them the next morning, far too early for Steve’s liking. He can’t help just rolling back into Chris a minute, breathing in the kid’s clean scent.

“You wanna come to the studio again?” Steve asks.

“Ok,” Chris says quietly.

Steve drags himself up and out, heading to the bathroom, scratching his belly. Chris is still in the bed when Steve heads downstairs dressed, but if the kid wants to sleep in Steve isn’t going to make him get up. Well, at least until Chris starts school then Steve will make him.

But Chris comes downstairs dressed by the time breakfast is on the table. Steve is on the phone again so he has to shovel his own breakfast down before he hurries them to the car.

“Did you get set up to start classes in the summer?” Steve asks on their short drive.

“Yeah,” Chris says, but he’s looking out the window like he’s not really paying attention. So Steve drops it. He doesn’t want to sound like a nag.

Jensen is there when they walk into the studio and that just makes Steve feel guiltier. Jensen is doing him a favor being here. He’s on hiatus from his show right now, but Steve knows that if he could just get the tracks laid already then Jensen would undoubtedly rather be with his friends and family than hanging out here at the studio all the time.

He’s got to get back into it, so he gives Chris’s shoulder a squeeze, saying, “Feel free to play my guitars,” before he heads into the studio room.

It’s a long day but he sees Jensen and Chris entertaining each other and playing the guitars some. He orders lunch for everybody but has to take a call while everyone is eating.

But he finally really gets some good stuff and things are coming along. He tells the band to take another break around five and that’s when he notices another friend has stopped by.

Finley is standing up from the couch as soon as Steve takes his headphones off and he rushes over with a big smile and a hug. She’s tall and blonde, curvy and stacked. They had a thing for a while, but they’ve been friends for longer.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, stepping back from the hug.

“Actually, I came to ask a favor,” she says with a smile on her face that says all too clear she knows he won’t refuse. “A friend is playing at a club tonight, Hilltop, and I promised him I’d get my friend, the producer to come.”

“Ooh, you know just because I come to listen does not mean that I can do anything to help this guy,” Steve warns.

“I know, but I’ll have done my part which is to get you to come. They’re going on at 11PM tonight. Thanks so much,” she says with a knowing grin that says she’s getting the much better deal. But she gives him a kiss goodbye to soothe the sting.

Turning around as she leaves, Steve sees Chris and Jensen sitting on the couch watching him. “You hungry?” he asks them. “We’re doing well so I’m gonna have the band stay for a little while longer. Jensen, we may actually be ready for you too.”

“We’re going to a show?” Chris asks.

“Oh, actually, the club is 21 and up. So why don’t I order you some dinner now and then I’ll take you home before I go? Do you like pepperoni?” Steve asks as he goes to search for the pizza menu.

The day seems to go by in a blur. The band is sounding great, and Jensen did get one song in. He’s feeling pretty excited by the time he’s driving Chris home.

“Hey, baby, I’m obviously gonna be back pretty late tonight. If I wake you up tonight coming in, you don’t have to go to the studio tomorrow. Just if you’d rather sleep in and stuff. Night,” Steve says just before Christian shuts the door.

It turns out the band sucks, but Steve has a good time hanging out with Finley and her friends. It’s too bad he couldn’t bring Chris to this, but he feels bad enough giving Chris alcohol at his own house, he’s not sneaking Chris into a club.

But this time when he gets home just before 2AM, he finds the lights on and a car in the driveway. A car that isn’t his.

He’s parking his car to the side and running inside before he’s really had time to process that the car looks familiar.

“Chris! Chris, what…?”

He stops dead when he sees a duffel bag by the door and looks up to see Chris and Jensen standing guiltily in the front room.

“I fucking knew it,” Steve snarls before he’s running at Jensen, grabbing the other man by the biceps and slamming Jensen into the wall behind them. “This whole time…you wanted him,” Steve chokes the words out as Jensen gasps at the solid wall connecting with the back of his head.

Pushing one last time on Jensen’s chest, Steve steps away, still glaring.

“Chris wanted to leave, Steve,” Jensen says catching his breath but still leaning against the wall. “He was upset today so I called the house to check on him. I just didn’t want him going back to the streets.”

Steve gasps, shocked that Jensen knows that Chris was homeless. It’s just more proof that Chris is turning to Jensen instead.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Steve tasks, “Chris, you don’t…do you want to leave?”

He watches as Chris seems to shudder, crossing his arms in front of himself as his eyes fill with tears, shining in the fluorescent light. “You’re gonna get rid of me anyway,” he says shrugging.

“What?” Steve says confused, moving closer.

“Don’t,” Chris growls, taking a step back even as a tear rolls down his cheek. “I’m not shiny and new anymore, and you don’t want me. It’s ok,” he says, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the knuckles of one hand. “Happens all the time,” Chris’s voice chokes on the last sentence, his face scrunching up like he’s about to burst into tears.

Steve can’t watch Chris break down from only a step away but as soon as he takes another step, Chris just backs up again, still looking like he’s trying not to start sobbing. In desperation, Steve sinks to his knees, unconsciously inching closer but slow enough that Chris doesn’t move away.

“Baby, I don’t want you to go. I was just…busy,” Steve says, knowing how stupid that sounds. He realizes now how stupid it was for him to think that his life would be basically normal just with the addition of Chris. It’s not acceptable for any relationship and that’s not considering the special circumstances that led to Chris living with him.

“No, you will,” Chris insists, his arms more hugging himself now. “Nobody ever…keeps me.”

Steve is close enough now that he reaches out a cautious hand to Chris’s hip. He only pulls a little, but Chris seems to just collapse at the touch, allowing Steve to pull him down, practically cradling the kid on his knees. Chris is openly sobbing now, trying to hide his face in his hands even as Steve pulls the kid against his chest.

“I don’t want you to go, baby. I want you, Chris. I want you to stay,” Steve says. He feels like he’s walking a tightrope because he certainly doesn’t want to make Chris feel he’s staying against his will, but Steve feels as if Chris isn’t really talking about them anymore. Chris is talking about his life.

Chris doesn’t answer, doesn’t seem to be able to with the force of his sobs, but slowly, he uncurls and instead tucks his face into Steve’s shoulder, hands tightly clenching Steve’s biceps. Steve has completely forgotten they have an audience when Jensen puts a hand on the back of his head.

Steve tips his head back to see his friend, feeling more ashamed than he can say. “Something has to change, Steve,” Jensen says quietly. “Because he has some place else he can always go.”

Swallowing hard, Steve nods and ducks his head, burying his face in the fine hairs at the back of Chris’s neck. Faintly he hears the sound of Jensen shutting the front door. Steve knows he needs to have a talk with Jensen, but first he needs to have a talk with Chris.

It takes a long time for sobs to quiet to tears and sniffles, like a lifetime of tears have been saved up. Steve shifts the kid on his lap and his heart breaks when Chris clutches him tighter, scared that Steve will leave him. But Steve simply gets his arms further underneath the kid and then stands, carrying Chris bridal style to the living room.

Under normal circumstances, Chris would undoubtedly protest, but Chris just slides his arms around Steve’s neck, holding on as Steve sits them both on the couch. The surprise seems to have stopped the tears, though, and Chris pulls back a little.

“I need a tissue,” Chris says obviously embarrassed as he tries to reach the box on the side table. Grabbing a handful of tissues, Chris twists to the side and blows his nose lightly like he’s trying to be inconspicuous, like Steve will forget about what’s just happened if he’s quiet.

Instead, Steve is thinking of what question to ask first. “Chris, baby,” he begins gently as Chris is not looking at him. “What did you mean that nobody ever keeps you?”

The kid is sitting on Steve’s lap, wiping his nose like a five year old, and he answers, “Nothing,” while still looking at his lap instead of at Steve.

Maybe that’s not the right question. “Tell me how you got into foster care.”

Steve makes his voice firm this time, but he almost regrets it as Chris’s face starts to scrunch up like he’s going to cry again. But then Chris starts to talk, albeit haltingly and trying to breathe through his mouth at first.

“Car crash,” Chris says tightly. “Except I was at home with a babysitter because I was only three.”

“You’ve been in the foster system since you were three?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Chris says, suddenly looking tired. “Well, at first they gave me to my momma’s sister, but she gave me back, said she couldn’t handle it.”

The silence after that statement is thick, but that’s not the end of the story. “And then,” Steve prompts.

“And then I went into a foster home,” Chris snaps. “Just none of them stuck. I got sent back for being too hyperactive and for not being academic enough and for fighting with the older kids. And then I was too old and went to a group home.” The kid says it quickly with a flat affect like he can convince Steve that none of it mattered which Steve wouldn’t buy even if he hadn’t just watched Chris break down into tears.

“Where did you grow up?” Steve asks quietly.

“Norman, Oklahoma,” Chris says. “Saved enough money for a bus ticket to LA when I turned eighteen.”

Steve wants to ask so many things, particularly about how he became the prostitute that Steve picked up, how many johns did he have, did he still think of it, of them? But Chris is fading like a toddler after a tantrum. Steve only puts his hand on the back of Chris’s neck and the kid falls into Steve, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. All those other questions will have to wait.


End file.
